


Sherlock Clones Himself

by wendymarlowe



Series: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times [42]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Although technically two of those Ms are the same person, Crack but also kinky?, First Time, M/M, Threesome m/m/m, cloning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: “Not a hallucination.” The Sherlock in the dressing gown sat up and plodded over to sprawl in the only free kitchen chair. “I was bored, so I cloned myself.”“Ah.” John looked at one Sherlock, then the other. “I need more coffee for this.”AKA Sherlock finally gets a perfect control group for sexy experiments and John gets two Sherlocks so everyone wins (but mostly us)(Part of my "John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times" series of shorts, all revolving around the same basic theme of "John and Sherlock get sexy for the first time and also discover some kinky stuff about each other.")
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/66368
Comments: 22
Kudos: 231





	Sherlock Clones Himself

“G’morning.” John shuffled past the lump of dressing gown and dark curls on the sofa and stared blearily at the coffeemaker on the cluttered kitchen counter. “Is this safe to drink, or do I need to make a new pot?”

“It’s safe,” Sherlock called from his bedroom, “although it’s the dark roast you said was too bitter. And it’s been sitting there a while.”

“Okay.” John poured a cup to wake himself up enough to brew better coffee. He was halfway through it before he noticed something. “Sherlock?”

“Yes?” two Sherlocks answered from opposite sides of the flat.

“Did you drug me again?”

“Boring,” the Sherlock on the sofa declared.

“You got rather upset last time I did that,” the other Sherlock said, now lounging against his bedroom doorframe, “and I did promise not to do it again.”

“That’s not a no. And I’m hallucinating that there’s two of you.”

“Not a hallucination.” The Sherlock in the dressing gown sat up and plodded over to sprawl in the only free kitchen chair. “I was bored, so I cloned myself.”

“Ah.” John looked at one Sherlock, then the other. “I need more coffee for this.”

The Sherlock seated at the table was freshly shaven but attired in Sherlock’s usual ratty pajamas and blue dressing gown. The Sherlock standing in the doorway was wearing pressed black dress trousers, his favorite purple shirt, and had a blazer slung casually over one shoulder.

“I can’t clone my clothes, obviously,” the Sherlock in the suit said. “I’m off to drop some off at the dry cleaner’s while the other me fine-tunes some details on the cloning machine. Since I’ll be going through them faster.”

“The other me only lasts for half an hour,” the pajama-clad Sherlock added. “Would like to see if I can extend the duration.”

Purple-shirt Sherlock nodded. “Not much we can do in thirty minutes.”

John closed his eyes, shook his head a few times, and sighed. “Good luck, I suppose. I’m going back to bed.”

***

When he next came downstairs, one Sherlock was examining slides under the microscope and calling out numbers to the other Sherlock, who was writing them down in a lab notebook. They both looked up with identical expressions when John entered the sitting room.

“Not just a weird dream, then,” John said.

Both Sherlocks rolled their eyes and pointedly ignored him.

“This what you plan to do with your weekend?”

“Obviously,” the Sherlock at the microscope said. He was still in a dressing gown, but the other Sherlock was now in a different suit. “Now that I have a suitable control group that’s identical to me in every way, there are a number of experiments I can finally complete.”

“And your control group is… you?”

“For up to thirty-eight minutes at a time, yes. Still trying to improve that.”

“By the way,” the other Sherlock said, “if you’re about to use the loo, try not to touch the apparatus in the bathtub. It’s calibrated for my genetic signature, not yours.”

John nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

The next several weeks were among the strangest John had ever experienced, even after serving in Afghanistan, getting shot at, and living with Sherlock Holmes for nearly three years. Often one Sherlock was asleep on the sofa while the other typed furiously at his laptop. Other times, both Sherlocks followed him around observing him like he was an exhibit at the zoo. John started spending a lot of time in his room with the door closed. London’s criminals were unfortunately behaving themselves, meaning Sherlock only got to solve two cases with himself--one of which involved John doing most of the legwork anyway. Somehow Sherlock managed to keep the existence of his clone from everyone except Mycroft and John. Mycroft because he was probably damn near omniscient, and him because… John wasn’t entirely sure. Unavoidable exposure? Simply too lazy to bother hiding? He certainly wasn’t asked to participate in any of Sherlock’s new experiments.

A normal day at the clinic got cut short when the power went out and Sarah sent him home early, so John arrived back to the flat earlier than usual. He walked in on Sherlock kissing himself, nude, in the middle of the sitting room.

“I didn’t think you did that sort of thing,” John said calmly. “Experiment?”

The Sherlocks broke apart reluctantly. One of them immediately started writing something in the notebook. “Controlled test,” the other Sherlock answered. “I’d say that was about a six for me.”

“I’d rate it a three,” the Sherlock with the book said without looking up. “Having your tongue in my mouth feels odd. Two tongues don’t fit in my oral cavity as well, even if they’re both technically mine.”

“Expedience, John,” the other Sherlock declared. “I can test both the giving and receiving end of things this way. And in a much more controlled manner than I could when I was limited to picking up drunk blokes at Uni.”

“Ah,” John said. “You’re gay, then?”

“That’s my current hypothesis, yes.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I was just curious.”

“Give us another few minutes, and then you can help with the next round.”

John blinked. “Err… how?”

Both Sherlocks gave him identical looks of disbelief. “You love blow jobs,” one of them said.

“And I have discovered I rather like both giving and receiving,” the other added.

“I need to determine how much your reactions differ from my own,” the first concluded. “Plus, you’d enjoy it. You’ve never performed and received fellatio at the same time.”

“I have, actually,” John felt obligated to say. “It’s called a sixty-nine and it is, indeed, enjoyable.”

“Fellatio, by definition, requires the receiving participant to have a penis,” Sherlock said. “You’ve performed cunnilingus.”

“Also given a blow job or two, though.” John shrugged. “I’ve always had adventurous friends. Some of whom were excellent tutors.”

The Sherlocks exchanged a glance with each other. “Prior experience may affect the data,” one finally said, “but I’m still interested in the results.”

The other nodded. “Agreed.”

John toed off his shoes and relaxed onto the sofa. “Go ahead,” he said, and waved his hand indicating they should get on with it. “I’ll just watch from here.”

Interestingly, both Sherlocks’ cocks--which had been barely at half-mast--twitched at the same time. “I think I find that arousing,” one of them said. The other made a note in the experiment book.

“Because it’s me?” John asked. “Or do you like exhibitionism in general?”

The Sherlock with the notebook frowned. “Lestrade? No. Molly Hooper? Definite no. Mrs. Hudson?” He shuddered. “No, I think it’s just for you.”

“I concur,” the other Sherlock said. “Now we should go through it all again, but with John watching.”

John grinned. “No objections here.” He leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Can I strip first?”

The answers of “It’s _may_ I” and “Please do” overlapped, but John chose to respond only to the latter. The Sherlocks watched keenly as he stripped off his jumper, unbuttoned his shirt, and shucked his trousers and pants. By the time he was reclined across the sofa and palming his already-interested prick, the Sherlocks were both fully aroused and fully focused on him.

“Dibs on giving,” one of them said.

“That’s fine, I… _fuck._ ” And the other Sherlock popped out of existence.

“I knew that was going to happen soon,” the sole remaining Sherlock said sheepishly. “Excuse me a moment--I need to clone myself again.”

John shook his head. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Be right back.” Sherlock stalked--with astounding dignity, for a naked man sporting a raging hard-on--to the loo. Sure enough, two Sherlock emerged a few minutes later.

“I haven’t done that with an erection before,” one declared. “That was rather unpleasant.”

“You might need to sit up a bit more, John,” the other said. “The angle will be uncomfortable for you if you don’t.”

John propped himself up on one elbow… and promptly fell back flat on the seat cushions when one of the Sherlocks knelt on the floor with little fanfare and engulfed John’s cock in his mouth. “Guh.”

“We’ve been practicing all afternoon,” the other Sherlock said, seating himself on the corner of the coffee table and presenting his erection at approximately John’s current head height. “Unfortunately, I’m too tall for you to reach while standing and I don’t think I can get close enough while sitting without my legs getting in the way.”

 _That sounds like a challenge._ John grabbed the man’s bony knee, tugged to rotate Sherlock a good thirty degrees, and leaned over it to lick Sherlock’s bollocks.

“Oh!” Sherlock said.

“Mmmmph,” the other agreed.

John shot "his" Sherlock what he hoped was a smug look, then set to focusing on the task at hand. Or at mouth, as it were. He balanced his chest over the man’s thigh and tried not to move his lower body too much as he worked. Luckily, both Sherlocks seemed to approve of the situation. It took a few tries, but John finally maneuvered himself to where he could palm Sherlock’s bollocks and pump the base of his cock at the same time while he was sucking on the tip. He knew it was succeeding when Sherlock gave a full-body shiver and moaned loudly. The sound prompted the other Sherlock to moan too, which felt goddamned amazing around John’s prick.

“Lift your bum up higher, Sherlock,” the one John was sucking panted. “I want to finger your arse. My arse. Fuck.”

 _Fuck_ , John echoed silently. He looked up, the head of Sherlock’s cock still cradled on his tongue, to see his flatmate sucking on one long finger and then tracing it around his clone’s arsehole. It was nearly enough to make John come right then and there, but he pulled back from the other Sherlock’s warm and perfect mouth just in time.

“Push it in,” the clone Sherlock begged. “We didn’t try this angle before and I want to know if it feels as good as the other way.”

John briefly wondered what _the other way_ was, but then the kneeling Sherlock got his lips around John's prick again and gave a particularly powerful suck. John copied the motion to his own fellate-ee and was treated to the most pornographic noise he’d ever heard his flatmate make. It was followed a second later by a gasp and then a flood of semen overflowing his mouth. John coughed.

“Sorry,” Sherlock murmured. “You’re very good at that, John. I’m going to perform analingus on myself now.”

“Fucking hell.” John braced himself on the coffee table, now that Sherlock’s knee was no longer supporting his torso, and watched in awe as the spent Sherlock hoisted the other Sherlock’s arse higher in the air and fucking _buried_ his face in his clone’s arse. His finger was still there, too, prodding the other Sherlock from the inside and undoubtedly finding his prostate. Clone Sherlock cried out and inadvertently gagged himself deep-throating John’s cock.

“Oh, Christ, gonna come,” John groaned, and couldn’t stop his hips from twitching forwards into Sherlock's divine mouth. The movement must have shifted his partner in turn, because the timbre of the kneeling Sherlock’s cry changed dramatically and cut off with a near-whimper as he juddered apart while plugged at both ends by cock, tongue, and fingers. “Fuck,” John breathed, and came.

They stayed there, slumped and sated, for several minutes. John felt like he had no bones left in his body but he still couldn’t tear his gaze away from post-coital Sherlock. Or Sherlocks, plural. One was staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily while the other sprawled across the coffee table and left visible smears of semen on the surface.

“I believe,” said the Sherlock draped over the table, “that I would be amenable to repeating that experiment. After a suitable refractory period.”

John couldn’t help it--he started giggling. And once he started, he couldn’t stop. “I would too, you crazy berk,” he choked out between bursts of laughter. “Go write yourself a hypothesis.”


End file.
